Read by Matilda Longbottom

Vinyl garden hoses. I have three of them, and they’re transforming my backyard into Jurassic Park. These hoses are like gigantic snakes—innocently coiled until I try to unravel one for some simple watering. Then it twists, refuses to lay flat, and I almost trip. How did that darn thing wrap itself around my ankle?

Onward, I say. I aim the hose at my prize rhodie bush. Nothing. I glance over my shoulder and, lo and behold, the hose has kinked. After finally finishing my watering task, I’m relieved to still be standing. Then I try to wrap the hose back into a neat coil, but it’s mocking me. It kinks right, it kinks left, and finally loops into a figure eight instead of a circle. My blood pressure rises. All I want to do is grab a sledgehammer and smack it one. There’s nothing worse than a hose with an attitude.

I can’t take it anymore, so I decide to try expandable hoses—also known as pocket hoses. On the surface, they seem much nicer. Encased in an outer fabric shell, the inner tubing expands when the water is turned on and contracts when it’s shut off, shrinking back into a manageable size that can be neatly stored.

Ah, but appearances can be deceiving.

I was about two months into using my special hose, so proud that I paid a bargain price, until the day I was out on the patio sprinkling the pots, and the inner tubing swelled up like a balloon. Bam! The darn thing exploded. The noise was so loud, I hit the deck, thinking someone had fired a shot into my yard—a believable scenario these days with all the news about gun violence. Did I mention it took me an hour to coax the dog out of the bushes? Poor baby.

Expandable hoses can also be amusing. Just attach one to a lawn sprinkler. When you shut the water off, the retracting hose will jerk the sprinkler across the grass. And there’s my dog again, barking her head off at the strange thing jumping across the lawn.

Oh yeah, and then, there’s the extra time it takes for the hose to empty itself and retract once you shut off the water. So, when you think you’re done watering, you actually aren’t.

I also discovered expandable hoses have a short shelf life. After a season of use, the fabric covering can split and leak.

I finally read the instructions, which say to preserve the hose’s life, you should unscrew it from the faucet after each use and store it inside. I must say, I know a lot of devoted gardeners, and none are enthusiastic about packing in the hose every time they water the garden. Not me, that’s for sure. So, I guess I’ll just have to keep buying replacements or go back to fighting off vipers.

I pleaded my case to a “helpful hardware man,” seeking justice. He smiled and winked. “Follow me,” he said. “We have a different animal. It’s kind of a cross between a pocket hose and a regular vinyl one. Easy to unfold, they don’t fight you, and their outer durable polymer cover is puncture-free. Plus, they’re safe to use on the vegetable garden.” Helpful gave me an encouraging smile. “Reasonable cost and guaranteed for five years. I’ve got three of these myself.”

If nothing else, it’s reassuring to know men also struggle with hoses.

“Enjoy it,” said my fellow gardening friend. “Outer appearances can be deceiving. After a while, they tend to leak at the hose bib.” So far, that hasn’t happened, but I’m keeping my eyes open.

Such a pity, though. I mean, we can put a man on the moon and are on the cusp of tangling with artificial intelligence, but we can’t invent a truly good hose that doesn’t test ardent gardeners’ nerves, let alone aggravate their dogs. ❖

About the Author: Jean Rover resides in the lush Willamette Valley of Oregon. When not wrestling with unruly hoses and battling weeds, Jean tends to her 30 roses and cares for her dog, Tara, and cat, Forester—both rescue animals. She also enjoys writing novels and short stories, often inspired by her gardening adventures.